Memoirs of a sad old bear
by Natalie River
Summary: You could say I'm Wammy's oldest ward. Before L himself, though I'm not really alive. It had been a long time since a child played with me, but that changed. Just a stuffed toy to some. But to six talented children I was a friend.
1. Chapter 1

At first there was darkness, that's all. Nothing but the inside of a crowded cupboard. My legs bent uncomfortably, squashed in between a doll's house and a pram. Occasionally a child would come to the cupboard, pick out a toy, and we wouldn't see him or her any more. Sometimes they would throw a toy back into the cupboard. I was at the bottom of the pile. No one wanted to play with a strange looking teddy bear, with different sized buttons as eyes, a mouth in an almost frown. No. I used to hope and hope a child would come and play with me, but no one ever came.

When we were first in that old store cupboard we used to talk. That's how I found out where I was. Quilish Wammy's orphanage for talented children. Talented children didn't have much time for toys. The longer we sat in this cave of despair, the more tired we became. Slowly we stopped speaking to each other, we had no energy left to do so. One by one my friends, the other toys disappeared, taken to play with the children. Yet I stayed here. No one wants an old bear like me, with a faded ribbon around my neck, stuffing coming out. No one had wanted me when I was new, no one even named me. And now, there were so many new toys on top of me, no one would even look at a disgruntled old bear.

One day, a long time ago now, I was awoken from my sleep, torn from my dream of being a child's companion. It had been a while since old Watari had opened the large oak door. It creaked like a witch's hollow squeal, and opened suddenly, flooding us with light. The toys were excited, but I wasn't. Many times had the door opened before, and each time my hopes raised, but no, children wanted Cindy doll's and action figures, not me. They wanted new exciting toys. I settled myself down to sleep once more, but found myself being shaken by the toys above me moving.

"How about this one?" Watari, I know his voice.  
"No..."  
"Ok, this one?"  
"No, it has mean eyes." I hoped the child was talking about one of the dolls, a spiteful one, that lived in the cupboard prison with me.  
"This one?" Watari's voice was getting closer.  
"No, can I have him?" I felt myself being picked up, I opened my eyes. A raven haired boy was holding me, by the leg may I add, but holding me all the same. His wide innocent eyes looked up hopefully at Watari, shadows circling them made him seem panda like, but he wanted me all the same. "Please sir? Please may I have him?"

Watari looked doubtfully at me, as if debating with himself. "Oh you don't want him, he's old, and dirty." He said, the insult, I wasn't dirty, dusty maybe, but not dirty.

"Oh I do, I do." He shook me vigorously. "Look he's not dirty any more." Watari sighed.

"Ok, you have him L."  
With that my new owner, my new friend, took me by the leg, again, and thanking Watari quickly, ran with me to his room.  
L's room was small. To say the least. A bed in one corner, a wardrobe, and chair that acted like a bedside table. He sat me down at his bed, and started talking quickly.  
"This is my room, do you like it? You'll be living with me now k'?" He asked. "Course it's ok. You're going to be my friend. Aren't you?" he nodded, convincing himself. He couldn't have been more than three of four. "What's your name ay? I know, you're going to be Willoughby. You like that name?" He laughed.

From that moment on, I became L Lawliet's constant companion. I went everywhere with him. To nursery then to school, to meals, even in the bath. It was fun, being L's best friend, but it was sad. L didn't have any _real _ friends. I mean, I know, that most of the children had toys as their best friends, but L didn't have _any _human friends. Only me. I didn't mind though, it meant that I had his full attention, all for me. He was always there for me, I was always there for him. He would carry me about with him, in a strange way. Holding me by the leg, my furry head banging along the floor, bouncing off the different steps one by one. He would hold my foot in between his thumb and finger. One morning, as I sat watching him get ready for breakfast he said something to me. Something that worried me.

"Oh, I can't take you with me today." He looked at my sad face, and chose to explain. "I'm sorry Willoughby kun, but I can't. Today I start my lessons properly. I can't take you with me." He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'll come and tell you all about it after school. I promise I'll do that every day."

That was the first day L went anywhere without me. He had never done something like it before, it was always me and him, him and me. He never went on his own, ever. But today he did. As he left the room, he looked back at me, and promised not to forget me. I trusted him though, L would never let me down.

He kept his promise. He came back from lessons, telling me the most wonderful tale, of what he'd learnt, of the people he'd met. He didn't seem very fond of them, one had commented on him looking like a panda, secretly I agreed, but I didn't say anything. L was eight years of age by this point. And slowly starting to grow up.

In the weeks that followed, as they turned to months, L started distancing himself from the world. He stopped talking to me quite so much, but he still did occasionally. Everything was work. No time for his old friend, no time for new friends either. I wouldn't have minded if he'd substituted me for real human beings, but no, he substituted me for a calculator and work. L solved his first case that year, he was so proud. He came and told me about it, I hugged him, showing how proud I was of him. Don't think he really noticed, but ah well. I was proud of him. As he grew up, he turned into a fine young man. Intelligent.

But the older L got, the more he forgot about me. By the time he reached 13 I no longer lived on his bed, but on the chair beside it. As the days passed he forgot about me. Stopped talking to me completely, and slowly as the days turned into weeks clothes, papers stationary covered the chair. Burying me, hiding me from my L. I longed for the days he relied on me. The days he needed my companionship. But he didn't need me anymore. I couldn't help him. I'd watch as he came and went, growing up. Becoming more and more independent, anti social. His friends were cases, work, numbers and letters. He wasn't the little boy I'd known, all he was now was a detective.

L spent longer and longer awake each day, the shadows under his eyes became darker and darker. He spent longer and longer in his room, locked away from the world. He always wore his mask of no emotion, even when he was alone with me. But I had seen him cry, and laugh. I had, I had seen the famous L cry. But I can't speak, so it's not like I could tell anyone.

I knew that L had to leave me one day. He was growing up. But he was still here. He still came into his broom cupboard size room, still studied here, sitting on the tiny bed. He still lived with me, and although he had forgotten about me, I could still watch him. I watched him grow in front of me, I felt proud of him. He wasn't a child any more, he had become a wonderful man. I knew his future was bright, he had so many opportunities, he would be great. He already had a reputation for being the world's greatest detective, and only 17.

I knew something was different the day he left. I sensed something. L came into the room, and he seemed grave, as if he was attending a funeral. Bag in his hand, he slowly lifted things into it. It wasn't the first time he'd gone away. He often went away, but he always came back. looking around the room, he packed all that he would need delicately. Then dropped the bag on the floor and flopped onto his bed. He gulped, swallowed, as if he wanted to speak but couldn't. Then he noticed me, for the first time in months.

"Hello, I'd forgotten you old friend." He spoke differently to his recent monotone. He spoke with care. "Look at me, talking to an inanimate object. Trust me to have a friend in one too." He laughed, and sighed. "I'm leaving this place now. Not coming back. Some might say I'm glad to get out of here, I am, but I'm kinda sad to leave. You understand don't you?" He sighed again, ridiculing himself for talking to a stuffed toy. "Course ya do. I'll miss this place, I'll miss you." He laughed once more.

Standing up to leave he looked around once more. I'm sure he said something under his breath. Muttered to himself. _I'll miss you_, I'm sure he said that. I want to believe he said that. With that L left, and he never came back. He left me. To grow up, and to get on with his life.


	2. Chapter 2

After my L left, I was sad to say the least. For over ten years he had been my owner. I had been owned. It was a good feeling, he had loved me as I had he. He had showed me care, and I had given him comfort. But slowly and steadily I faded from his memory. Until I wasn't the friend he'd had years ago, until I was simply a stuffed toy. My voice disappeared, he didn't speak to me anymore, until I was simply a stuffed toy. But for years he had owned me, he had loved me, and I him. Every good thing has to come to an end, and it had been a good run. So I was ready to move on.

Once L had left, Roger, not the old Watari for he had left with L, sent two of the older boys to clear the room. I sat, on my seat watching the children clear the room. Two smaller, children sat watching, with me. The older two, let me call them G and H. They worked quickly, grumbling about the unfairness of the matter. They threw many items away, books and such. But they weren't wasted. No. Every once in a while as the children worked another child would stick there head around the door, and ask for some item or other. Like looting pirates they were. The two smaller children played with the toys as H and G cleaned.

"B, A!" shouted H. "Can't you see we're trying to work?" B, a child who reminded me very much of L pouted. A simply looked ashamed.  
"Sowi..it'th a free country." B answered. Lisping as he said it.  
"Oh come on B. You'reeleven, and you don't have a lisp."  
"Yeth I doeth."  
"Quit trying to be cute." Snapped the older boy. "What do you two want?" A had been staring at me for a while now. He reached out, touching my paw gingerly. As if I would bite him! (I never would).  
"Can I have him H? Can I please? Can I?" B begged tugging at my paws, and at H at the same time.  
"Oh I was going to ask for him.." A's voice trailed off slowly. "But it's ok B, you have him.."  
"You guys can share him." Suggested G.  
"Ye!"  
"Ok." A's answer was less than enthusiastic.

The two children hurried, with me, away from the stripping of the room. They seemed genuinely excited to play with me. I was pleased. L Lawliet had not played with me for a long time. These two children were my owners now. A and B. B and A, whichever way you put it. Beyond Birthday and Aasha, strangely no last name. Don't ask me how I know their names, it's something you just know when they own you.

The children's methods of playing where rather odd. They made a deal, B would get me on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, and A the rest of the week. Hardly fair in my opinion, but ah well. A seemed reluctant to display any displeasure to this arrangement but still unhappy all the same. B however seemed full of joy. It was a Tuesday, and so he got to play with me first. However he did not take me to play on his own. He and A gave me a tour of the house.

"This is L's room." B's eyes were cold, and his voice dull when he said it.  
"He knows that B. He's lived there for ages."  
"He might not know that. Any way, as I was saying." He "let" A carry me, A held me like a baby. Rather more dignified for me, than banging my head against the floor. "This is the corridor." I rolled my button eyes, I knew this.  
"Oh B, show Willoughby the kitchen." A interrupted, excitement showing through his mask of sadness and non-emotion. However B did not like being interrupted.  
"Don't interrupt me!" He shouted.  
"Sorry! Sorry!"  
"You think your better than me?"  
"No I'm sorry."  
"Good."

My tour went on with silence from A. B was back to his cheerful state then, A looked as if he'd been slapped. I felt like he had been. Why didn't he stand up to this boy? Then I remembered. A and B were seven and eleven years of age. To a seven year old the friendship of someone older than you, well that was gods gift to humanity, and I can see B thought of himself that way.

My week, less even, with B was..how to put it.._interesting_. I saw his bug collection, which he kept inhumanely in his room. I got to see him bully the different children, or as he would put it, use his persuasive skills. Not that he needed help with work, I mean, if L was a genius, this kid was a super genius. He just wanted to prove he was clever enough to get his work done without trying. To prove he could do what he wanted, and not get caught. I watched him "play" with a kitten he'd found, torment it with a stick, then as it ran away laughed. He'd did less with it than I was afraid he would, but I don't doubt he will in the future do more than torment an animal. I don't doubt that at all.

However he didn't keep me for long. Only spoke to me once.

"Ha, look at me talking to a fuckin' teddy bear." He said, the language I had not heard before. I doubt that is a good sign. I looked up at him blankly. "I only accepted the thing cause I knew A wanted it." With that he laughed chucking me into a corner, shaking his head.

I thought about what he said. _Only accepted the thing_ _cause A wanted it. _What a cruel, cruel thing to do to your friend. Accept something just because someone else wanted it. He may have been a mere eleven, and yes he was a child, but that was a childish cruel thing to do. What a cruel thing. He looked very much like my L. Very much so it scared me. But inside this child, this human being was nothing like L. All he cared about was spiting other people, beating them. He needed help, warped mind psychopathic tendency's. At that moment more than any other I wished I could speak. To beg Roger or Watari or who ever, to come help this boy. He was cruel and hard on the inside, but if I was the wise one that I was (not likely) on the inside he was hurting bad. I hoped this was the case. But I'm just a stuffed toy. So what did I do? I sat in that corner and I watched him. Watched his sins, watched him hurt everyone including himself. And if I could have cried, or prayed I would have. So many tears from my button eyes would have fallen, that the world would have flooded. But I'm just a stuffed toy. A useless stuffed toy. Cause I couldn't even help the poor pathetic creature I saw in front of me.


	3. Chapter 3

Beyond gave me to Azreal almost the very next day. He'd only accepted me out of spite, trying to win constantly. A seemed glad to receive me, thankful, to his older friend. B seemed to have a strange control over A. It was obvious that B saw A as a lesser mortal, weak, useable, whereas A saw B as a friend, carer, someone he could look up to. Their relationship was a one-sided one, B dominating constantly, A giving into the demands. He never complained, it was as if he was afraid of the older child, though I can understand why.

A never complained, especially to B. He never complained about anything to be honest. A took me with him everywhere, he'd clutch me to his chest, in a similar manner as L would have. I went to lessons with him when he was younger, and I went with him anywhere else. Of course, that meant I was with B a lot of the time too. Seemingly, A would trudge behind B grudgingly, to do his bidding, a slave. A and I would watch as B hurt himself, or other kids, as B found a kitten, and bashed it's head against a wall. And as they got older we would always watch as he chose a new victim, tormented the child, scared the child. At first, I couldn't understand why A followed B. Why none of the children said anything to the adults.

But that's because they were scared and unsure. B left no witnesses, apart from the child he tormented for a week or two, and of course himself and A. Everyone child knew what was going on, I heard them talking all the time. But they didn't think it happened to anyone else, and if they did, what could they do about it? Besides, anyone who'd been at Wammy's for around a year, knew that becoming the subject of B's tormenting was a natural part of life. Which adult would believe, that B, first in line to becoming the next L, was a cruel bully?

That's right. Wammy's was breeding a new L. I don't know why they needed a new L, why they couldn't simply have another person who would take my L's job, not his name. But that's what was happening. Wammy's house was, and to my account still is trying to create another L. I would never criticise Watari, he himself is an amazing man, however he does have that fault. Trying to create a copy of his L. Yes, he loved L, and so did I, yes L's talents were amazing, and they've flourished since he left me. But you can't copy human beings. It's one thing you just can not do. It won't ever happen, cloning may be one thing, and I'm sure B's intelligence was one close to L's, but they weren't the same person.

B didn't want to be a copy of L. He told A quite frequently, he wanted to be L, not a copy. I think I understood him, what's the use of a copy, when the original still exists? However, B was quite content being L's top, one and only heir. No one stood in his way, no competition, he was certain to become L, just as soon as L died. That thought gave me shudders, I couldn't let L die. But he had to grow up, to grow up, and to leave me behind. At least I had A and B. In a way. So, yes B was quite content being number one in the running to become the next L. He was always cruel and cold towards other humans, but not that much towards A. He was, kind, to A. In a way. Protected him from the others, only B was able to hurt A, and he made sure everyone knew that.

B soon became tired with using his fists, his mind and his mouth to scare other children, by using their real names, and soon he started using..other means. Somehow, on one of the weekends out, he managed to smuggle a lighter back. He'd set fire to things, nature, things that Roger wouldn't notice. The children knew this, and tried to avoid him, but if he found out they were avoiding him, he'd take it out on A. All I could do, was sit and watch, from the ground, as B would beat A. Knocked from his hands, I'd lie back, watching his arms being burned, his face being scratched. And there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

But A, would tell me, that being there made him feel safe. At night, he would whisper all his secrets to me. His deepest darkest secrets, about family, about B. And at night, he said I would grow, into a growling bear, that would chase away wrong doers. I would prowl his dreams, protecting him from B, yet in life I could do nothing. I could do nothing at all. I wish, someone had punished B, when he was a child, for it would have saved him. So much could have been saved, if B had had just that little bit of attention, but it didn't happen did it? My poor poor A, my poor poor B.

Things seemed to slow down for A and B. A was now twelve and he no longer spoke to me. I was simple an ornament, though he did keep his diary with me. A let the younger children take me about, play with me. As he said himself, why hoard me away, why hide me, when the point of me was to be played with. Rather wise for such a young one, I would say. Of course I still residenced in his room, a happier memory of his childhood, better than the other ones. A didn't talk to me, properly, until A came in one day, panicking.

"I've done something..I've done something so bad..he's going to kill me.." A paced up and down, his light brown hair, flicked over his forehead. He pushed it out of his eyes. Holding his hand to his head, he strutted up and down the tiny box room. Sitting down on the small bed, he stood up instantly. What's wrong? Why won't he tell me? I wondered, uselessly. Though I know who _he_ was. How could I not work that one out? It was quite obvious. Beyond, he was going to hurt A. It was going to happen, why else would A be worried? A had learnt in the past few years, how to defend himself from almost anyone. People would hurt him, with words and fists, but he knew how to protect himself from that now. However there was one person he could not keep out of his mind. B, B twisted into his mind like a snake, invading his privacy, forcing himself upon the younger boy.

Pushing the door open, B stormed into the room. Fists clenched, back hunched, yet he still seemed so large, compared to the cowering A. Red faced, raven hair spiked, a mimic of L he advanced on A. The shadows he had painted under his eyes, in attempt to be even more like L, were running through tears of anger. Eyes dark and hard, he snarled under his breath. Pure anger, more anger than when Roger had caught him smoking. Worse than when A had screamed out, after being hit (he'd used the excuse of falling). A pure anger, that burned into his soul. Snarling, as A crouched into the corner. Shielding his face. B ignored him, and pushed him further backwards.

"What have you done?" he growled, a wild manic animal. A whimpered.  
"Please don't hurt me..._please..please._" A begged, pleading with the boy standing over him. B laughed.  
"Number. Fucking. One." he growled, snarling at A. "I have held that status since I was first tested." He breathed in. "And now. You! _You! _Have come and, over taken me. You did this. You freak!" bellowed B, at the child whimpering up at him.  
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't try! Please!"  
"Oh don't worry, I won't hurt you." Said B, smiling. Smiling an evil smile, a malicious grin that couldn't be trusted. A gasped.  
"You won't?" asked A, sighing with relief.  
"Of course not A. We're friends aren't we?" he grinned. A stared at him, then nodded quickly, keeping still, afraid B would hit him. "That's good isn't it? We're all meant to have friends."

A nodded gratefully.  
"But, you deserve to be punished, don't you?" smiled B. "Bad people need to be punished, and I'm afraid A, you have been naughty. Don't worry, though. I won't hurt you. It'll make you feel better in the end. But you have to do it." B sighed, then reaching into the pocket of a pair of oversized, baggy light blue jeans, the glinting blade, of a pocket knife. Fingering it carefully, he handed it to A, laughing slightly, at A's reaction. "Don't be scared little A. It's your friend. It'll help you. If you let it, you know what to do don't you? Of course you do." He smiled sweetly at A.

Through tears, A nodded. He understood what he had to do, he'd seen B do it, a thousand times before. It was easy, and it made you feel good. That's what B said, and B didn't lie. B never lied. Ever. This was a punishment he deserved, but also a gift. A pulled the sleeve of his dark hoodie up, and pressed the shining blade to his pale white skin, dragging it slowly across his arm. Blood rose to the surface, swamping the cut, but A didn't shudder in pain. He looked..content.

"Now don't you feel better?" prompted B, smiling at A. Nodding, A made to hand the knife back. "Oh no." Said B, in a sickly sweet voice. "We can't be having that now can we? No no no." He smiled, slimly. "You keep this one, I've got my own, you can use it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that."

Closing his fist around the blade, A slipped it into his pocket, thanking B. Leaving quickly, B regained his normal position, pausing by the door. "We're friends right? Friends keep secrets. So don't go blabbing to Roger ok? Good, I know I can trust you." With that he left. Leaving A alone in the small room.

I can't help A, no matter how hard I try. In all my dreams, before my hopeless sight, he's there, dragging that cursed blade over his skin, reaping his soul. I can't open my sown mouth, to scream for help, I can't fight B away. Worse, I no longer prowl in A's dreams, protecting him. B is everywhere now. Nothing and no one can keep him out of A's mind. No one can keep him out, in each smothering dream of A's he's there, jeering, growling, screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

A became more distant. From everyone. He'd do B's bidding, he kept up the work, constantly struggling to keep his place in the running to become the next L. Not that he wanted to be L of course. I might even say, that he was scared of becoming someone he wasn't. following B's orders he told no-one. Words and names were thrown at him each day, all went over his head easily. Or so it seemed. B's beatings came less, only when B truly lost his temper. A justified this, I didn't. Never would. I loved all my owners, even B. But he was not right, to hurt another person like that.

B preferred to psychologically torment A. Whisper threats to him, in the darkness of night, after creeping into the room. To send a cold smile his way, to catch his eye as they walked the many corridors of Wammy's house. And as A grew older, past thirteen, fourteen, it went further than emotional abuse, physical abuse. Pale arms mutilated with strawberry scars, would push B away each night. Fighting him off, pushing, kicking biting him, anything to keep him away. Struggling, but unable to throw the older boy off, A could never escape.

Everywhere he went he couldn't hide from B. Each corridor he walked down, B was there, in the door way of a classroom, appearing from a locked room. Lessons he shared with B, and the older children, he couldn't concentrate, from fear of B and his minions. Still he struggled to continue being first in line to become the new L, still he struggled to learn, to get better, and struggled to keep B away. Moving rooms did nothing, locked doors couldn't keep B away. Nothing, stern words about being out of bed after curfew, detentions he didn't go to. At first A wouldn't say anything, now, now he couldn't.

The first time B had come into his room at night. A hadn't noticed, of course I did. Watching over him sleep, he may have been thirteen, but I still watched over him. Guarding him from evil. But I couldn't stop B from entering, couldn't scream for help, couldn't bite and scratch him till he ran. Couldn't growl and intimidate him, like I used to do in A's dreams. As B crept into the room, picking the lock somehow, he was smart enough, they all were, they all are. No room was safe in Wammy's, if a child really wanted to get into it they would. The only lock a child had yet to crack, were the ones on the filing cabinets in Roger's office. They had so many combinations that were changed regularly, it was possible impossible to get into.

Like a wild cat, he looked at his prey, eyes shining red in the dim light, the half moon reflecting in his eyes. Back bent, ready to pounce, as if he's going to jump, but he doesn't jump. Simply walking over to the bed, the light morphing his shadow into a mutated monster, bare feet not making a sound on the wooden floor, he sat down. Old metal springs, bounced, wailing like a witch, before settling again. I'm surprised A hasn't woken. Why hasn't he woken? I try to scream, but the stitches that form my mouth refuse to open, so, I stay a silent witness, to this.

A twists and turns, yet another night of nightmares. Screaming out, begging someone for help, but no one comes to him. His white eyes writhe in his face, falling back. kicking the blanket off him, as if he's drowning. Drowning under a sea of white lace, maybe. He screams out again, lashing out. But B still sits by his side, watching him, with interest. As if A were an interesting specimen, to examine, something B couldn't quite understand yet. A puzzle B couldn't work out. Sometimes, as I lay alone at night, I would think B could see into people's minds, could see something about people. He had some ability to know things about a person, their fears, a theory that isn't correct, but still. It was as if A was something he hadn't come across before, someone who could withstand his power over minds. Someway, some strange way.

With eyes, of compassion the dark headed one, so much like my L looked down at the younger boy, and I thought for a moment, I saw a little bit of L in him. Just a little. As he watched A sleep, thrashing back and forth, trapped in a nightmare, I thought, against my usual sense, that B was going to comfort A. Wake him, and hug the boy to him, to treat him like an equal, to make up for his mistakes. For he looked down at the sleeper with compassion, with love, with friendship, strong friendship. Chagrin was plenty in his face, and for a moment I thought there was part of B, maybe part of B when he had been an innocent child, before he was orphaned left. There was, somewhere, there had to be. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

Reaching towards the boy, he shook his shoulder, waking him gently.  
"Hmph?" A murmured, rousing from his dream, not begging for help anymore. He opened his eyes, taking in the shadows, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Making out the shadows, then he noticed the figure looming over him. "B what the hell?" he started, before B clamped a hand over his mouth.  
"Shhh..it's only me." He soothed, voice silky and smooth, like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. A whimpered, grasping at mouth, for B's hand was over his nose as well. "Can I take my hand away? Because if you scream.." he indicated to the blade in his hand. "No one will hear you, and no one will believe you anyway." A whimpered again, nodding, shaking with fear. "There's a good boy."

Pulling his hand away slowly, B smiled, white teeth glinting in the moonlight. Wickedness reflected in that smile, an unknown evil. Giggling slowly to himself, B pulled A's night shirt off him, casting it to the floor. A's eyes were wild, he opened his mouth, making a sound unfit for a human mouth, like a scared animal. Drawing the blade slowly and delicately along A's chest, not cutting the surface or drawing blood. A held his breath, awaiting pain that didn't at first come. Suddenly, B pushed harder, dragging the blade along skin, blood flying to the surface of a diagonal cut, nothing to die from, but still painful. But A didn't cry out, simply gritted his teeth, gulping, whimpering, shuddering.

B moved over A, on all fours, he positioned himself over A. Shredding the blanket from the bed B snarled. Realisation hit A in waves, it was visible on his face, a mask cracking to show fear underneath it. He knew what was happening, he knew it was going to happen. His body was shaking, he couldn't stop. He was scared, more scared than he'd been before. This reminded him of days his Uncle had been alive, looking after him. He hadn't dared sleep, he couldn't, with his mothers shrieks. A had been glad when his Uncle died, it was finally him and his mum. But then, then some stupid drunk driver had hit her when she was walking home.

Pulling off the younger boy's night clothes, B laughed quietly. He was in charge this time, it was him. No one could stop him, no one would stop him. He wasn't the one whimpering and afraid this time, cowering in a corner. He wasn't the one, who's mother had abandoned him to be abused by that man, no. B was in charge. He could hurt the child under him as much or as little as he wanted.

"Please..B..no...no...I don't...PLEASE!" begged A, pushing the raven haired boy away. Struggling, kicking, biting, scratching, anything to get away. But B was stronger, pushing him back down easily.  
"Shhh.." he whispered, into the child's ear. Licking his neck. "It'll be over soon, don't worry."

From A's eyes, bled the salt of his soul, pouring slowly from his flushed eyes, down his cheeks, his fist trying still to push B away, before falling to his face. He sees the darkness he knows will soon swallow him, he fears it, yet he longs for it. And, he could not scream out, cry for help. He couldn't, though B's hands were no longer over his mouth. Neither could I, the stitching in my mouth binds me from spilling secrets, from calling for help, just as B's snakelike mind binds A. As the night carried on, I tried to close my eyes, but the buttons I see through wouldn't allow me to.

So I stayed there, silent. Watching.


	5. Chapter 5

Nightly events, like that happened on a regular basis. First maybe once a week, then every other day, then almost every day. At first A said nothing, then he couldn't, but neither could I. My A seemed to know when B was coming, and at first fought him off, or tried to. But soon he realised there was no point. So simply cowered away from him, shielded himself with his hands. Because B could only attack A physically. It angered him, there was something about A that B couldn't understand. Something he couldn't _see_. That he could with everyone but A, and so, he had to attack him physically. It was the only way he could. Because although his words hit A, his threats and whispers snuck into A's mind, and plagued it. But there was no satisfaction, with that, B had to have more.

A soon learnt, that the blade was his friend. It didn't protect him from B, but it made him numb. It made him happy, proud to be able to hurt himself in a way no one else could. His arms were taken up by cuts, his legs by more, and his chest and back with B's. Each day, I would see him, wake up and cry. Rivers of salty tears running down his face, but soon to be covered. He'd go to lessons, and return. He'd work, battling to stay in his position as number one. And each night, B came, and left. Leaving more scars, taking a bit of A's soul with him each time.

I cannot describe what went on each night to detail, for, A has had so much of his life invaded already, I feel not the need to do more so. His poor life, ruined by so many people. Each night, I watched from my shelf, as B would come and go, hurting A so much. Watching silently as A couldn't even defend himself. Each day A grew weaker, physically and mentally. Exhausted from sleepless, or little sleep nights, because of dreamt and real nightmares. Stressed from mounting amounts of work. Hiding scars all over his body.

Once, B fell asleep, on the floor in A's room. It was strange, to watch such a dangerous person asleep. To prove he was too human, he too had weakness. As he slept, gently, his head touching hi knees, curled up in a ball, he muttered to himself. Pleading with a woman and a man, then laughing, laughing as he told them how he was in charge now, and begging them for forgiveness. Telling them he was sorry, begging her not to punish him. Monsters too need sleep. But I watched two boys sleep, two boys, not a monster and a boy. For although B had done hideous things to A, he was still a child. Still a twisted child, but a child all the same.

A fell further and further into depression. A pit of despair, where he went through motions of life. He went to lessons, stayed in a genius, put on the perfect charade. But never fooled me. How could he? When I witnessed each night's events, A and B's double life. Watching so much of this horror, and unable to do anything. My stitched mouth useless, my button eyes un-closing, my stuffed arms un moving. The laws of nature are cruel, un-allowing me to move. For being a stupid, pathetic toy, I can only move when with those of my own kind. Stupid isn't it? Or with a child who truly believes in me, a toddler.

A and B had a surprise visitor, a few days before it happened. It was a surprise for me too. L. My L, had returned, he'd come to speak to his heirs. The two leading his succession competition. He walked into A's room, shoe-less of course, leading his two successors with him. I watched him, all my thoughts and worries disappearing. Because L was back. L would solve it, L would help them.

He'd changed since I last saw him. His dark head of hair even more unruly, his eyes dark with shadows almost as bad as A's. He looked sad, older than his age, much older. His eyes were those of an elderly man's. They didn't fit with his young body. He had a strawberry in his hand, he munched it quietly, indicating for his successors to sit. He too sat, on the edge of the bed, while they sat at the other end.

"B, A, You know why I have come to see you. Do you not?" he asked solemnly.  
A hesitated, his head down, looking at the piece of floor between his feet, not at L or B. "It's not about succeeding you is it?"  
B snorted, he was looking at L directly, like a cat, ready to challenge his fellow. For B believed himself to be L's equal, A wasn't a challenge, L was.  
"Well deducted Alternative." Stated L. "I am not in fact here to speak with you or Backup succeeding me."  
With mock politeness, and sarcasm tracing, B asked L "If you don't mind me asking, oh great detective L, why are you here?"  
L sighed. "Please call me Ryuzaki. And in answer to your question, I am here because Roger is worried about you."  
A let out a little 'oh', but B cut across him. "So _Roger_" he said the name venomously. "Is worried about us?" he asked, to confirm his fears. A knew he was going to pay for this later, he hung his head in shame.  
"Yes, yes he is. He says, that you A, have been becoming more and more distant. He says you seem depressed. A, would you mind, pulling up your sleeves?" Gently L probed A. Looking from L to B, terrified A didn't know what to do. What did B want him to do? Looking up at B from under his fringe, he gave him a questioning look. Gritting his teeth, B nodded.

Unmoving, a tear rolled down A's face, towards his mouth.

Nightly events, like that happened on a regular basis. First maybe once a week, then every other day, then almost every day. At first A said nothing, then he couldn't, but neither could I. My A seemed to know when B was coming, and at first fought him off, or tried to. But soon he realised there was no point. So simply cowered away from him, shielded himself with his hands. Because B could only attack A physically. It angered him, there was something about A that B couldn't understand. Something he couldn't _see_. That he could with everyone but A, and so, he had to attack him physically. It was the only way he could. Because although his words hit A, his threats and whispers snuck into A's mind, and plagued it. But there was no satisfaction, with that, B had to have more.

A soon learnt, that the blade was his friend. It didn't protect him from B, but it made him numb. It made him happy, proud to be able to hurt himself in a way no one else could. His arms were taken up by cuts, his legs by more, and his chest and back with B's. Each day, I would see him, wake up and cry. Rivers of salty tears running down his face, but soon to be covered. He'd go to lessons, and return. He'd work, battling to stay in his position as number one. And each night, B came, and left. Leaving more scars, taking a bit of A's soul with him each time.

I cannot describe what went on each night to detail, for, A has had so much of his life invaded already, I feel not the need to do more so. His poor life, ruined by so many people. Each night, I watched from my shelf, as B would come and go, hurting A so much. Watching silently as A couldn't even defend himself. Each day A grew weaker, physically and mentally. Exhausted from sleepless, or little sleep nights, because of dreamt and real nightmares. Stressed from mounting amounts of work. Hiding scars all over his body.

Once, B fell asleep, on the floor in A's room. It was strange, to watch such a dangerous person asleep. To prove he was too human, he too had weakness. As he slept, gently, his head touching hi knees, curled up in a ball, he muttered to himself. Pleading with a woman and a man, then laughing, laughing as he told them how he was in charge now, and begging them for forgiveness. Telling them he was sorry, begging her not to punish him. Monsters too need sleep. But I watched two boys sleep, two boys, not a monster and a boy. For although B had done hideous things to A, he was still a child. Still a twisted child, but a child all the same.

A fell further and further into depression. A pit of despair, where he went through motions of life. He went to lessons, stayed in a genius, put on the perfect charade. But never fooled me. How could he? When I witnessed each night's events, A and B's double life. Watching so much of this horror, and unable to do anything. My stitched mouth useless, my button eyes un-closing, my stuffed arms un moving. The laws of nature are cruel, un-allowing me to move. For being a stupid, pathetic toy, I can only move when with those of my own kind. Stupid isn't it? Or with a child who truly believes in me, a toddler.

A and B had a surprise visitor, a few days before it happened. It was a surprise for me too. L. My L, had returned, he'd come to speak to his heirs. The two leading his succession competition. He walked into A's room, shoe-less of course, leading his two successors with him. I watched him, all my thoughts and worries disappearing. Because L was back. L would solve it, L would help them.

He'd changed since I last saw him. His dark head of hair even more unruly, his eyes dark with shadows almost as bad as A's. He looked sad, older than his age, much older. His eyes were those of an elderly man's. They didn't fit with his young body. He had a strawberry in his hand, he munched it quietly, indicating for his successors to sit. He too sat, on the edge of the bed, while they sat at the other end.

"B, A, You know why I have come to see you. Do you not?" he asked solemnly.  
A hesitated, his head down, looking at the piece of floor between his feet, not at L or B. "It's not about succeeding you is it?"  
B snorted, he was looking at L directly, like a cat, ready to challenge his fellow. For B believed himself to be L's equal, A wasn't a challenge, L was.  
"Well deducted Alternative." Stated L. "I am not in fact here to speak with you or Backup succeeding me."  
With mock politeness, and sarcasm tracing, B asked L "If you don't mind me asking, oh great detective L, why are you here?"  
L sighed. "Please call me Ryuzaki. And in answer to your question, I am here because Roger is worried about you."  
A let out a little 'oh', but B cut across him. "So _Roger_" he said the name venomously. "Is worried about us?" he asked, to confirm his fears. A knew he was going to pay for this later, he hung his head in shame.  
"Yes, yes he is. He says, that you A, have been becoming more and more distant. He says you seem depressed. A, would you mind, pulling up your sleeves?" Gently L probed A. Looking from L to B, terrified A didn't know what to do. What did B want him to do? Looking up at B from under his fringe, he gave him a questioning look. Gritting his teeth, B nodded.

Unmoving, a tear rolled down A's face, towards his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

Tears were something I wasn't un used to. I hardly saw A without them streaming down his face. Cut's were something else I was used to, his arms were always bleeding, already marked with white scars, paler than his skin. Eyes red and puffed, arms red and white. Constantly. Bruises from falling down stairs, bruises from tripping over people's feet, bruises everywhere. Sometimes he'd have black eyes. Nothing shocked me, nothing scared me that much any more. Scars, cuts, bruises, blood, it was an every day thing. B, and A were always covered in them. Cuts and gashes covered them. Self inflicted.

The last day, was different. A came into my room, hunched over. Sitting down on the bed, he threw several bottles of medication down. Kids are always getting scrapes and scratches, kids always fall over , kid geni even more so, so Roger of course had a large supply of pain relievers. They were kept in the medication cupboard, ready for anyone who wanted them. And trusted students, such as A and B, didn't have a problem getting hold of them. A couple of bottles smuggled out, was easy. As easy as hiding a knife for weeks on end.

A noticed me, for the first time in what seemed to be years. Sighing he reached down for me, kicking off his trainers. Laying back on the bed, black jeans outlined on white cloth.

"I haven't seen you in years." He spoke quietly. "Oh god, look at me talking to a fucking stuffed toy." He laughed, a forced, tired laugh. "I'm fifteen. I wish I was four again. And you could protect me. Remember you used to do that? You'd protect me from all bad things. Guess I'm not a kid any more. Don't worry though. I'm on my way out. I don't give a dam about becoming the next L. I can't do this any more. B. Life. All of it. I don't want to do it any more." His eyes were hard, a few lone tears forming. "You know how that feels? You wouldn't would you? Being abused by everyone you ever meet? Being abandoned by people, friendless, people constantly dyeing on you. And no one can protect you!" he was shouting now "No one can save you. How the hell would you know how that feels?" hysterical. "Don't worry though, I'm escaping now." He giggled.

And as I watched him, swallowing tablet after tablet, five, six seven. I lost count, he'd taken more than twenty by now. I couldn't keep count. Although I sat there watching, I willed him to stop. Unmoving, unspeaking, as good as a statue. I wish I could move, at no point in my existence have I ever wanted to be alive, more than that moment. If only I could reach out. Scream for help. For someone to come ad find him, stop him.

A was getting dizzy now, barely able to stand, fumbled around for his blade. Bringing it to his wrists, he pushed deeper than he'd ever done before. His eyes were bloodshot, fatigue ridden. He dropped to his knees. Crimson trickled from the wound he'd made, running down his arms, staining his pale shirt. Sticking to his arms, he frowned forehead clenched in pain. Only one cut though, maybe he could survive it, and the tablets. Maybe. But it wasn't too late, it couldn't be. No, please no.

He wasn't done though. No, no he wasn't. It was as if his arms were heavy to lift, he struggled as if weights were attached to his joints, and lifted the blade again. Pulling it across the wrist again, he let out a gasp, dropping the blade to the wooden floor. The wound he had made wasn't that deep this time, but still dangerous, maybe it was the other wound 's blood loss taking effect, or the tablets he'd taken. Grabbing the blade, slipping in his blood corrupted hand, he pulled it across his wrist a third time, a fourth, a fifth, pressing as hard as he could, with all the strength he had.

Death did not come immediately to A. I watched at every jolt the blood come gargling from his froth corrupted lungs, his body writhing. Jerking about. I watched as he stuttered ,choked, drowned. Watching him die, slowly, painfully, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. If you, have ever witnessed, or known someone who's dying, and not being able to do anything about it, you will understand this feeling. Utter hopelessness. Knowing there is absolutely nothing in your power you can do. Be it illness, or wounds, or self inflicted ones even. Trying to hold onto them, as they slip from your grasp, and when screaming and shouting does nothing. When you just want to give up, and die. Just go to sleep and never wake up. That feeling, over utter uselessness, hopelessness.

Still there was hope, for me at least. Bursting into his room, came B. A plunged at him, choking. And for once, in his life, he did the right thing. Gasping, horror filled his face. He looked like a child, scared confused. There was wild in his eyes, but not of an angry animal, of a scared animal, afraid frightened terrified. He froze, or perhaps that was simply what I thought I saw. He stood in the doorway, staring at A, at me. Paused, forced to make a decision. He looked around madly, like a trapped cat, breathing deeply, quickly.

Then he was gone. Running towards help. I think. Shouting, begging someone to come. Screaming until his voice was horse and rough. Finally, B would help. It wouldn't be too late. They would save A, I'm sure I could. I told myself this many times. As I heard B's footsteps dyeing away, his voice growing fainter. I repeated it, when Roger came running, when kids stuck their head's around the door, to point laugh. To say they were glad the freak had finally done it. Some stared horror struck, and still I repeated that A wouldn't die. I wouldn't let him.

To be honest, the ambulance came quickly. Within minutes A was on a stretcher, towels pressed to his wrists. One of the paramedics had spotted to medication cases, and pointing to her partner muttered the words "old dog" a code I assume they used for "over dose". Trying to save the children from trauma? They'd just seen the kid bleeding to death, plus they had above genius iq's. They'd figure it out. They were all disgusting, they simply looked on, as A bled to death, enjoying the show. Disgusting creatures that humans are. Not all, no. But human nature is a tormenting one.

A died in hospital. The damage he'd done to himself was too much. I believe, deep down, I knew that. A didn't fail, not if he had a plan. A never failed. I learnt that he had died. When Roger came to clear his room. Roger didn't let the kids do it this time. The blood was long gone, but he hardly thought any child would want to have the room now. However, I do believe he was wrong.

Roger had rid the room of almost all, which wasn't a lot. Clothes could be re-used, had gone into a basket, books where in a box, that's about all in A's room. Books clothes and me. The bed lining had been taken for washing soon to be re-used. I was ready to get shoved on a shelf, or at the back of a cupboard. But strangely enough, that's not what happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you Shiron for your review, I also thank everyone else. I did make mistakes which I am glad you pointed out. This is a weaker chapter, I apologise. Please continue to read it will get better. That's all. NR**

Matt and Mello, because of their age, had not been officially tested before. Officially that is. Of course, with every child at Wammy's they are tested, and examined constantly, especially at a young tender age. Of course, the first in line to succeed A, was B. After the two of them, Matt and Mello. I don't think there was a particular order to their rankings, for Watari thought he'd created the perfect copies with B and A. Of course, there is no need for a copy, when the original exists. And as always, L is full of surprises. No one, even if we do account for his genius, expected him to live to the age of sixteen. He should have, and I'm sure it might have happened, been murdered before that. Being the famous detective and all. However he reached sixteen, and passed it. Never pausing for celebrations. Though each day, each night, marks he is one day closer. To dusty death, therefore it is necessary to create a copy.

Of course, A was gone. I can't say much more about that. He has left, he has gone, whichever way you choose to put it. B was alive. Although often they rumoured him to be dead, I knew, deep in my stuffing, I knew he was alive. He might be hiding somewhere, somewhere far away. But he was alive. Maybe, maybe he was trying to make up for the grief he'd caused. Somehow, I knew that wasn't true. I knew, that B, would not be somewhere, helping make the world a better place. I know, he bathed in his own chagrin, he was in all the pain he'd caused A. But he wasn't making up for it. He was out..out for vengeance. He was out, to punish someone. Probably himself, but also the rest of the world.

He'd come into A's room, many times. As I sat on the wire bed, surrounded by dust and boxes, then moved to the living room, he would come in, and cry. Screaming, howling, like a wild animal. Begging A to come back, though someone of his intelligence should know, that once dead, no one returned. He wailed, about being cursed, told the walls of the room, that he was a demon. I'm sure he was, in some ways. But each time I saw him, I saw a terrified child. He would curse himself, curse A, curse L. Curse everyone. Begging someone for forgiveness, each time he heard that A was 'stressed'. He knew it was a lie, yet he couldn't correct it. I watched him once, looking into the mirror that hung on the back of the door. Screaming that he was a demon, that he had evil eyes. Why his mother let him get beaten each night, because of his red eyes. But I couldn't see red eyes, never, even though he screamed out of these witch eyes he had. No one else could see them. I wished, each time, that someone would come and comfort him. Though no one did.

From my perch, watching the living room. I was treated like a hero. A here. I wish I could spit the word out, and stamp on it. Treated like an ornament, I simply sit on a high shelf. Not played with, not touched. Roger won't allow it. Everyone knows, that I, am L's bear. But I'm not. Not any more. I was B's bear, I was A's. It has been a long time, since L Lawliet owned me. He does not remember me by now, why would he? I am nothing to him. Something he would never remember. Why would he? I'm a stuffed toy, a coming to pieces, stuffed toy. It's sad really. I can't remember a time when I was new. Do you ever feel like that? I honestly do. I just can't remember a time, when I was new. When I had a bright satin ribbon around my neck, my fur was clean and not covered with patches, and when my stuffing was intact. But I can't complain, and I am not a hero. I watched as the people I care for, run away, die. I watch and do nothing, insignificant, useless. I am not a hero. I am a coward.

Please forgive me. These are not my memoirs, these are accounts of the children of Wammy's. However I, now of my old age, tend to go off subject. I do get attached to children, as one does. Though I try not to. L, A, B. L, A. B even. Yes, it's strange, but there is some strange relationship between us. I wish no harm to him, I wish I could help him. I wish someone would or even could help him. But I doubt that will happen, because this is not a fairy tale. This is life, and life is never fair. Returning to the point, Matt and Mello had not been tested officially, to succeed L. Yet.

However, now that A and B had gone, there was no one in that category. And no heir, even for a small amount of time, is not a good thing. So, seven year old Mello, and nine year old Matt, were put into rankings, just a few years earlier than they should have been. Of course, it was no surprise, Matt knew he was intelligent, so did Mello. That was badly put, corrected; Matt and Mello knew they were very intelligent, and they also knew that they were in line to become L. Once they were considered old enough. Hence, the absence of B, and the departure of A was a problem. Which meant the two young heirs were pushed forwards.

L decided to visit his heirs. Strangely. For he hardly ever visited Wammy's. It was as if, he was pushing it away from him, trying to rid himself of the memories the house held. Although the orphanage had given him plenty of opportunities, and helped him achieve the rank of first, second and third world's greatest detectives. But, he never visited, unless it was something important. Even Roger, was surprised at the visit. L gave but a 24 hour warning, giving the excuse he was simply on a casual visit to see his two successors. However, even Roger, thought this to be a lie. A very well disguised one, but surely, the world's greatest detective had to come up with better fibs.

Matt and Mello were incredibly excited, to hear that L himself, was coming to see them. The two children, had never, ever seen L. And never thought they would. They were more excited than when they'd been told they were in the rankings, more excited than ever. The two children, turned out to be best friends. I thought this to be a problem, for arguments often came from the rankings list, and friends don't need to be split up. However, there wasn't much I could do. So when L arrived, they were ready and waiting for him by the front door. Eager faces, bright with glee, smiled up, as the young man slipped out of the black car.

Of course, never having seen L before, they didn't know what to expect. He seemed to have..aged a lot, since I last saw him. The bags under his eyes, had became deeper, darker, his back was hunched, like an old beggar, an old man. His black unruly hair spiked naturally, unlike B's. He looked at the old house, with a shudder, almost as if he was afraid of the place. But soon his eyes averted to the ground, his pale milk coloured face a mask once again. The older driver, I recognised as the dear Watari, stepped out, in front of L. Holding a dark umbrella over the two, they walked slowly towards the house. Rain pattered on the cold gravel drive, Watari, under his dark leather coat shivered, yet L, simply wearing jeans and a t-shirt, walked on stone faced.

From the distance of the living, I recognised L. My eye sight is quite esteemed, however, from the front door, never having seen L before. His two youngest successors cried out.

"B!" 


	8. Chapter 8

L looked up, at the two children waiting for him. He had been informed they were 'young' of course, all the children were young. They were young, hence referred to as a child. Of course, the small blonde, clad in leather, in L's opinion couldn't have been more than six, and the redhead, wearing an oversized striped t' couldn't have been older than ten. But his previous successors weren't here. Drastic times called for drastic measures. But as he looked up at them, he wasn't quite sure what he'd heard. The children looked scared almost, as if they'd seen him somewhere before. It confused him for a moment. Watari, the kindly looking gentleman walking beside him, simply put a hand on the youth's shoulder.

"B?" called out one of the boys, L couldn't see which one. It was Matt, who remembered B's appearance the best. But as the young man, L, carried on towards him, they could see his features become more clear through the hazy rain. The face was thin, like B's, he had the same dark shadows, the same spiked black hair. The same bony figure. But it wasn't B. Yes they shared the same features, by no coincidence, but they were completely different all the same.

"Matt. Mello. I, am not B. I am-!"

"L!" Mello gasped. His mouth open. L was a celebrity at Wammy's. No, not a celebrity famous for doing nothing, he was simply an idol. A hero. Which I'm sure he was.

"Correct.." L did not know which was Mello, and which was Matt. The gaping redhead spoke up.

"He's Mello. I'm Matt."

Nodding, L started to walk towards the main doors, however Mello stopped him. Matt spoke up again.  
"Sir..L..Mr L...I don't not think you're L or anything but.."  
"It's just Roger says...and everything and stuff..people aren't meant to come in without passes..."  
"Course we don't not think you're L..but you kind of.."  
"Have to prove it.."

Watari chuckled to himself. L had never been asked for identification before. Ever. It was something that just didn't happen. He simply told them that he was L, or had his helicopter and such land wherever he wanted it to. Or even if something as atrocious as being asked for ID he'd have his driver deal with it. L looked down at the two children slowly. Then turned to Watari. Watari nodded slowly, knowing it was a rule he himself put in place.

L took a step forwards, again, towards the doors-ready to show Watari's driving licence, the only real ID they had. When Mello told him-  
"I'm sorry sir..L..but you can't come any closer, you might be a murderer or something.."

L let out an exasperated sigh. These two, truly were his successors. Suspicious of everyone and everything, with a hundred questions to ask. Watari simply chuckled, he was a patient man, he had plenty of time to get the business over with. The children were questioning he didn't mind. However, as L held up the ID, through the rain. And Mello and Matt demanded to see authorization, and asked L to throw it to them, so they could scan it. Roger noticed his new arrivals from his office window, and ran forward to greet them.

"Ah Roger my old friend." Called Watari, as Roger pushed past the children, towards his friend. They embraced, and pulled apart quickly.  
"Wammy, old friend. Why are you and the L himself standing outside in the rain?"  
L answered. "Oh, my successors were simply asking us for identification."  
Startled Roger turned to the two children. "Can't you see this is the L!" he shouted, Mello cringed behind Matt. "You two-!" he broke off. "Honestly children these days, apologise you two-" he pointed in the direction of the children. Then turned back to the two important visitors. "Now Watari, L.." But L interrupted him.

"Is it not one of your rules, that you ask for ID? Why should myself and Watari be any different. Also if the children mistake me for B, who is known around here as somewhat of a.." he searched for the right word. "Violent bully? I would expect to be asked for identification."

Roger simply stared at the boy, frustrated at being cut off by the young man. He simply nodded, looking ashamed. Watari was quick to pick this up, turning to his friend. 

"Roger, mes amies! I need warming up, and a nice cup of strong sweet tea. Be a good man, and show me around this old house, haven't been here for years! I'm sure L has his businesses to attend to, he can survive without me for a few hours." The elderly gentleman sighed. "And young Matt and Mello was it? Will take good care of him." With that he turned, taking Roger by the arm, leading him towards the kitchen. Roger glad to escape, hurried along with him. Watari turned to L winking, before carrying on inside.


	9. Chapter 9

L decided to interview, asses, interrogate, what ever word you choose, in the brightly lit cool down room. Perched in one cornel, like a bird, there sat a CCTV camera. For some reason, when walking through the house, L had picked me up, and carried me-delicately this time, with him. Matt and Mello sat awkwardly on either edge of the small black sofa, that sat in the middle of the room. L located a chair, and sat in front of them, yet again perched on it ready to spring. There were stuffed animals in the corner of the room, L placed me among them. A giraffe, a hippo, an elephant, a lion and a monkey.

Mello spoke first, and when he did, he held them, and moved their arms and legs. L simply to start with, wanted to chat about their lives. He had poured some Ribena into two glasses, and sat back. 

"I have read your files, but I do need to clear some details." Reaching for a pen, L made a quick note, then continued "So Mello, you lived with your Mum until you were 4 then your gran for a year was it?" he asked, kindly. 

Mello nodded. "Yes sir. A year."

"And you didn't have much schooling at that point in time?" 

"That's right."

Matt fidgeted with his thumbs, as if he held a gaming device in them. Mello hugged the lion like a cushion, he was soft.

" Then Mello, you were back with your mum for six months?"

Mello nodded, fingers combing through the lion's mane. It could have been six months, it could have been less."

"Then you were in care for a short time, and spent weekends with your Mum? Eventually you went back to live with your mother. This was when you were six?" 

"Yes sir." Mello twitched nervously, sitting up right and to attention, afraid this man would shout at him. Matt simply slouched down, as if he weren't paying attention.

"Your mother and you then seemed to live at different addresses, a few months here, and a few there. Your mum had a couple of lovers too?" he asked, cocking his head to one side, still making notes. Mello changed his mind about the lion, and replaced him. The monkey was much nicer, he had arms that you could move. "Then your mother found a home in Norwich and you lived with her. Until you were offered another house in Berwick?"

Looking up Mello nodded. L was chewing the side of his pen, fiddling his fingers, as if he usually had something to keep them busy. Reaching into his pocket, Mello brought out a lollypop and handed it to the older boy. Smiling L took it graciously, before thanking the child. As L sucked on it, and his hair hanging heavily down the side of his face, Mello thought he looked like a horse.

"So, it's reasonable to say, that Mello kun's childhood was quite fairly unstable?"

Mello nodded. 

"But you were never abused? Or hurt?"

Mello shook his head, front teeth cutting into his lip. No he had never actually been abused. He cradled the monkey, before placing it back, the eyes were to cruel, he said afterwards.

"It says your mother was a pros-model" L stopped his sentence halfway, when he realised it wasn't something he should read out loud. "So, none of the men ever hurt you? Or your Mum?" he asked again, monotone seemingly unkind, though I do hope not.

Mello looked up and shook his head. How could he explain it to anyone? He hadn't been hit, or pushed, or..hurt, or locked away. No one had screamed at him, or ordered him about, insulted him. He'd just been sidelined, forgotten. He'd been left with friends, family, social services, complete strangers. Finally when there was no one else, simply on his own. That lipsticked mouth, the sparkling eyes, they were there for her once, but as he grew up, they turned and looked into a different direction. Mello had been an inconvenience, in the way, and when his Mum got a new job, set of friends, lover, modelling job, he'd simply been cast off.

Each time she did it, so beautifully. She did it with promises and toys and kisses. And every single time Mello had believed her, this was the last time it would happen. The last time he'd have to stay with his gran, or be in care, or stay with a boyfriend. After this one last time, it would all settle, and it would be just him and his mum and a nice dad. Just the three of them. But each time there was the drowning hurt of it.

The days they'd been together, were bright and full and coloured. But slowly, with looks, and phone-calls and extra hours at school, he knew things were changing. The days turned to black and white once more and he was alone. The plastic smiles of another foster placement surrounded him once more, or his gran's weariness. Inside each of these separations were like blasts of cool air from a fridge. But he couldn't be angry. He just had to wait till the door opened again, and his mum would be there. Her hair hanging wispily, her skin glowing, her mouth pouting begging for forgiveness.

"Are you sure? Matt will leave if you don't want to speak in front of him."

Matt interrupted him. "Sir, of course he's sure. Why would he not be? Can't you see he don't want to say anything?" Matt knew what it was like to be asked stupid questions, he also knew how much it meant to be protected, to feel someone had your back. The people in this place, thought Matt, always thought you'd been abused or hurt. Matt hadn't. People were always asking him, if his mother had died from this that or the other, but she hadn't. She'd died after a heart operation. Matt hadn't understood it at the time, but he thought he did now. His dad had died at war, that's all he knew. His mum always told him and his brothers that their dad had been a hero. When his Mum had gone to hospital, he'd moved in with Troy, the boy next door-just for a few days, till his Mum was better. He would wear Troy's clothes, which were several sizes to big for him, use his things, play with his toys. And Troy would complain about everything, asking why couldn't his brothers look after him.

Of course, once their mum had died, Matt was put into this orphanage. Care home first, then after some test results, when he was eight, he was brought to Wammy's house.

Mello looked up at the older child, gratitude spread all over his tiny face. He mouthed _thank you_ before turning back to L.

"Mello you may leave now." He said. Mello nodded, but sat where he was. "That generally means please leave." He added, on second thoughts. 

"No Mello can stay if he wants." Matt spoke indignantly. Mello looked up at his saviour once again, smiling. He picked me up, and cradled me, softly and gently.

"You could have that bear if you want." L said, eventually, after staring at me for long enough. "Take it back to your room." Before adding. "He was my friend when I was here, you know. I used to love the stuffed creature. Imagine if he could talk, would that not be interesting. But of course, refrain from such a childish thought. It is pure idiocy."

As he spoke, and Mello's face lit up, there came a knocking at the door. 

Sticking his head round the door, Roger ushered a small white headed boy into the room. He must have been about five, small for his age, but I'm sure about five years of age. "I'm sorry he's late..sir..L.." muttered Roger, debating whether to call the teenager L, sir, or simply L. "He just arrived, we haven't assessed him ourselves, yet, but he's definitely a candidate for your succession."


	10. Chapter 10

Nate was scared, he'd been in a care home for a week. One horrible week, he'd always been an orphan for a year now. But he'd lived with his gran for almost a year. She'd died. Then he'd been put into care, then he'd been brought here. It was a fast deduction, but everything was happening so fast. A haze of lights, he could hardly recall half of it. Many bits of information hit him, giving him too much to process, hundreds of thoughts screamed at him. All at once. And he just couldn't find anyway to understand any of it.

Many emotions had hit him, confusion, sadness, anger. He couldn't place them all, and he didn't like them at all. So, he decided, not to face them. And certainly not to show they were his weakness. As he entered the dimly lit room, ushered in by Roger, he tried to quickly process some of the facts he was given. Because facts are right, you can always rely on facts. Ok, fact number one, he was no longer Nate River, his name was Near and it would remain that way. Two, he couldn't keep reminders of his last life, because he was to become a successor for L. That's what was important, becoming the next L, whoever L was. And three, he was at a place called Wammy's house, run by Roger, founded by Quilish Wammy. An orphanage for talented children with exceptional gifts. That's what he'd been told. If he was here, and supposedly supposed to succeed L, the detective, he must have a gift and a talent. Those were the facts, and those where what he was clinging onto.

The room he had entered, was quite cheerful. Apart, from he observed, the CCTV camera, in the left hand cornel. That was an important observation, in Near's eyes. Everything had to be observed, because it was fact. There were stuffed toys in one cornel, they might be useful one day. There was a redheaded boy, sitting on a sofa, a blonde beside him, Mello. Holding me, and I looked very similar to a bear Near used to own.

"Mello, Matt." Said L, introducing the two, as Roger left the room hurriedly. "This is Near. Near- I am L."

Near gasped, shaking his white head. This was L. He was too young, by far. He was nineteen at the oldest? Near, estimated, quite accurately. He knew, he should question all, but he'd been told to simply take facts in and to except them. It was like he was learning everything from the start. Ok, this was L. The raven haired boy in front of him, was L.

L gestured for Near to sit down, and he did, in between Matt and Mello.

"I am here to talk to my three successors. I assume you know why you are here?" he asked.

Near nodded.

"I have my notes, Matt yours are fine." He nodded towards Matt, "Near, your parents died in a car crash?" he asked, no emotion. Matt gritted his teeth, L, was asking uncomfortable questions.

Near nodded, suppressing tears. He wanted to forget that. He felt, abandoned. His parents had left him and never came back, now his gran had died on him. Not fair. And here, this boy was talking about it so calmly. No, he thought, I mustn't get over emotional. He killed the thought in it's tracks, turning from L, to look at me. He wanted to reach out, to hold me tight. But Mello was gripping me, I was Mello's. Not his. Near, looked, almost sad. But Mello noticed him looking at me, and, putting a forced smile on his face, pushed me towards the younger boy.

"Could you tell me Near..how did your grandmother die?" Near clutched me to his chest. As if I was a lifeline, perhaps I was. A lifeline to his mortality, the survivor of his emotions. No matter, he looked at Mello gratefully, perhaps he might get along with the feisty blonde after all.

"Old age sir."

L nodded, noting it down. "Moving on, Matt what do you think of becoming the next L?" he asked.

The interview went subtly on, L taking notes now and then. Pausing to delve further into questions, questioning reasons, questioning answers. Each answer a child gave, he noted, and I could see his mind working different things out. Calculating, misinterpreting at some points, asking them to repeat their answers. Each child, grew warier and warier of asking. It was is if they were undergoing some kind of exam. Each answer had to be carefully thought out, with reason.

After asking about family life, they moved on to life at the orphanage. Which of course, Near couldn't answer. Instead he rocked himself back and forth, still clutching me, fiddling with my eyes. Turning them clockwise, anti clockwise, rhythmically. Creating patterns. He listened all the same, to Mello recalling life at the orphanage so far. Matt who'd been there longer. Hearing about their misadventures, he and L learnt they were good friends. Of course, they could all be friends. Was what Mello said. That would be nice, I thought, finally happy successors. But it wasn't going to happen was it?

I've got to give it to L though, he and Watari were doing a better job at breeding a successor this time. I'd stopped thinking of L as L Lawliet, my L. The young boy who'd played with me, loved me, needed me. This was a new L, a grown L. He was not my L. But as I said, he was doing a better job at creating an heir this time. Assessing them, was a good call. Making sure he and Watari kept an eye on them, was certainly something to be good for. If he kept them close, he might be able to save one of them at least, that's what I hoped.

The time passed quickly, and soon, L was looking at one of the various phone's he'd pulled out of a pocket.

"My apologies Mello, Matt, Near." He said, absently, concentrating more on the time than on the children watching him. "I must be departing. However, I have sufficient notes. I will return every year, I do want you to complete this video diary, every six months or three, you choose, is that ok?" he asked, holding up a camera. "Until then, work hard, I will always be assessing you."

With that, he stood up, from his crouched position, back clicking as he stood. And turned to leave, summoning Watari as he went, without so much as a goodbye. Matt and Mello were soon to leave after him, but Near stayed for a few moments. Clutching me tightly. Then slowly, he reached down, and placed me amongst the toys once more.

"It is not right to become emotionally attached to an inhuman object. Besides, I can't tale you from your family." With that, the white headed boy, slipped out of the door, shutting it delicately behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

After Near left me, in the stuffy room, Roger returned. The table was removed, the chairs moved back into their original positions, and the toys, were taken. They came for us, they came for us all. We were all put back into the confined cupboard once again. Locked away, imprisoned. Until we forgot who we were. we used to talk, and sing. We used to pray, and share tales of the days we were played with. But slowly, we grew old, and cobwebs gathered around us. No longer had we the energy to talk, or share tales of troubled pasts, and so we had to try all we could just to stay alive.

Cobwebs gathered around my musty ears, and dust formed. We were no longer the 'young ones' that we used to be, but old decrepit creatures. No longer we listened to the young ones telling of the old tales, and legends, for we were the old tales. Us, myself, Ellie the doll with half an arm missing, Lila the patchwork elephant, Mungo the old monkey with only half an ear, and of course the jack in the box, jack. We were the oldest in the cupboard, the ones who no longer talked. Instead, we listened to the young ones, rabble.

They talked of a better world, of an island somewhere, were all toys could be toys, and always be played with. Of course, if I had had the energy, to tell them, that without humans no one would play with us I would have. The babbled on about leaving the cupboard one day, and being loved by a child. They dreamed, and they hoped. They found candles and lights. They were the new generation, hybrids maybe, and maybe, just maybe they had the right to dream. For they were the new toys, toys who could think, more developed toys. Maybe, one day, a human, a child would come and play with them.

They had found out how to read. Against my better judgement. Nothing good would come from over thinking, but the toys had been eager to learn. They'd found a book, called "Tom and Alice" which, as far as I'm concerned, was about the most pathetic attempt at writing a book possible. But they liked it. Even before they could read, they'd looked at the pictures. It was a colourful book, with bright pictures, and vivid illustrations. Ellie had shown it to them, and explained exactly what was going on in each picture. She'd prompted them when they read, her blonde tattered pigtails wagging back and forth as she read to them.

The young ones had stared at the pictures, in the cupboard, and they'd asked so many questions. How was it possible for humans and toys to live and talk together? How did that work? The toys were talking to the humans, why? It wasn't right. And the adults joined in to. And when, the Mr Bunsy the teddy bear hurt his paw, Alice took him to her mother, and sowed it back again. The book, was unrealistic. It had come from a shop, run by humans, so that lead to the assumption, it was made by humans. But they wouldn't write a book about talking to toys, when they didn't, would they?

The new toys, made rules for themselves. As us, elders slept the days away, waiting to be thrown away, they formed a civilisation. They cheered when each new toy was put into the cupboard, and hailed toys as they left, to be played with. They made a list of rules, not to break, not to steal, all toys are equal, not to contemplate global domination without first consulting the squirrel federation, and not to play with matches. They elected leaders for themselves, of course, as elders we reigned highest, which defied the whole "all toys are equal" rule.

These rules, seemed to work, for a while. Toys lived in peace, and no arguments broke out. Every once in a while they would debate, and hold a council, but for a while there was silence. Nothingness. We all drifted into a darkness, we didn't use more candles, didn't read the book of lies. Our minds freed from our bodies, undisturbed. Nothingness was all we had. No one came to the cupboard, no toys were taken. We heard no sounds, they all died away. We heard no news. No children were to be heard running around Wammy's. Out of the tiny crack in the door, no light or human life was to be seen.

The events of those forgotten months were many, and I could list them. But they are not for this tale, this tale is for the L, and his heirs. Not for me, or my family. So I will say this. We were the forgotten, the only sign that Wammy's had ever had life there. Nothing happened in that dreary place, for it seemed like a graveyard. Perhaps it was. Or a slaughter house. As if it were cursed, it killed of it's wards, first leading them on like lams to the slaughter. Yes, that's the right simile. Wammy's house, a slaughter house.

But the days were peaceful, at least we may hold onto that. They passed, in the dozen, until none of could tell the passage of time. Time meant nothing. Until they came, until they came, to take us away..


	12. Chapter 12

They took us one by one. First the new toys left, we assumed they were taken to new homes. People wanted them. People needed them. Children wanted then. They took the barbies they took the Ken's, they took the shiny new toys. They were packed away, to be taken to new places. To be sold in some cases. It was still better than being in the stuffy cupboard. After them, they came to take the dolls. They took the Cindy dolls, they took the rag doll, they took the baby doll and her pram. And still we did nothing. We ignored it.

Looking back, I feel ashamed for doing nothing, for simply sitting back, even as they took members of my council. Said nothing when they came for the dolls. I say they, I do not know who they were. They were simply those who came in the night, who went unnoticed, the shadows that lurked in the darkness, the light that brought those shadows. Everything we feared, the unknown, the hidden. Everything we could not see and could not understand, that is what came, that is they. They came and they took the dolls, then they took the dolls house. Then they came for me.

For the first time in a long time, the toys were silent. We were completely silent. Talked not to any one or other. And for a long time, I was alone in the cupboard. Until one day, the door opened once more. Light flooded the room, and made the shadows flee to each corner, as if they were afraid of the light. In the door way stood a tall teen age boy. He wore light blue pyjama like jeans, and a white long sleeved shirt. For a second, I thought it was L, but deep in my heart I knew he was gone. The boy had light eyes, and white spiked hair. Almost smiled, before reaching into the cupboard, and lifting me up.

L Metta Light Yagami held me in her chubby hands, as her mother pushed her through the graveyard. It was a warm day, and the sun shone down above them, the sky was pure blue. A few clouds were in the sky, but they only tinted it, it did not deter from the baby blue colour it was. The push chair was comfortable, and Lita felt good, knowing her mother was pushing her. She was safe, under the warm pink blanket that kept her cosy. She still clutched me, tight to her small chest. Murmuring to me. Suddenly the chair stopped moving, but Lita understood why. Her mother picked her up, handing her to her father. He was still wearing his work suit.

"Matsui Dada." She murmured stroking his face.

"That's right!" he said, nodding his brown haired head. "Daddy's name was Matsuda, but it's Yagami now. Do you want to hold her?" he asked Near, who awkwardly took the child.

Kneeling down, Sayu placed a bouquet of flowers onto the first grave in the row.

_Mail Jeevas_

Giving me back to Near, Lita was placed on the ground. She laid a single rose on the dark grey gravestone.

"Uncle Mattie." Say nodded, yes, a rose for Mattie.

_Mihael Keehl _

Nate and Matsuda (now Yagami) watched as Sayu laid a bouquet of yellow daffodils in front of the grave stone that was a twin of the one before it. Lita copied her mother, placing a rose again on it.

"Mellsie." Yes, Mello.

They came to another grave, this one was a double plot. Still there was room for another name. "Sochiro Yagami" it read, "Beloved Husband and father" Sayu placed a ring of flowers on it for her father, she bit back tears.

"Gaga." Said the child, placing another rose.

_L Lawliet_ read the next grave. It had no date of birth, only a date of death and an age. Too young. On this grave, Sayu placed a wreath of flowers in the shape of a lolly. It would have made him smile.

"L." tried Lita, but it came out as an "Lrr". She may have been but one year old, but Watari would have been proud to take her at Wammy's. She knew that L and Light were those she was named after. And as Sayu often told her, they, along with Matt and Mello and Near, were the five greatest youngest men that lived. She placed the rose in the centre of the flowers.

_Quilish Wammy_ the grave was a statue of the Messiah, perhaps they saw Watari as a saviour. Wise and knowing. Watari who took in the poor, the orphaned and trained them. Sayu placed a few flowers on the grave.

"Watata." Lita pronounced, placing a white rose this time.

_A _was engraved on a wooden cross, a paupers grave. This was the grave that Sayu felt the most chagrin for, the poor child had no family, which is why she made it her business to visit this one in particular. She placed a small stuffed bear onto the grave, and Lita placed a rose.

"A." She nodded.

_Beyond Birthday_ placing a small bunch of flowers on this grave, Sayu hurried past. Lita placed a blood red rose.

"BB."

They came to the last grave. It was shaped like an angel, the wings outspread. Beauty. On it there was a picture of a handsome young man. He had light brown hair, and full happy eyes. He was smiling in the picture, his arm around his younger sister. He loved his family. Always wanted to take after his father, make the world better bit by bit. Make it safe for his sister, so she would never be afraid to walk home alone. So she could live, and have her own children in a safer world. A better world. Where each child can live and laugh and play, where no child was ever afraid.

_Light Yagami _Beloved brother, and son. Victim of Kira. Followed by his death date. Biting back tears, Sayu placed a selected bouquet of forget-me-nots on his grave. Lita placed her last rose there. Smiling. The grave was pretty, even though she understood it was sad.

"Light."

Sayu picked up her daughter, and carried her as they walked toward the exit. Near pushed the pushchair and Matusda put his arms around his beautiful wife. Still I sat, I felt like an intruder, watching this scene knowing I was in the midst of it. As we left, I read the names on the gravestones.

_Naomi Misora, Raye Penber, Misa Amane… _

Hundreds of graves, hundreds of dead bodies. Sayu turned by the rusty gates to look back at the graveyard. Her long dark hair swung in the wind, tangling at the back, not that she cared. She wore a long dark trench coat, her usual outfit. She wanted to cry, and she probably needed to. But she didn't. Even though her loving husband's hands were already round her shoulder's, ready to comfort her. Even though she'd lost almost everything. She did not cry, because she had Lita, she had Lita, and Matsuda and Near. She did not cry, because she had the future.

For it was a better world. The day was sunny and warm. A small cloud passed overhead, and slowly started to cry down upon them. But she didn't mind. Instead she pulled her husband close to her, letting him drop the push chair. And pulled Near awkwardly with the other hand.

And so, one tale ended. And another begun..


	13. Lita Yagami

Lita Matsuda brushed her long brown hair. She was growing to be beautiful, just like her mother was. Sayu Yagami, it was undeniable she was attractive. I watched as she brushed it out. She started to plait it, then left it loose. "Much better." She told herself.

I tried to nod, then remembered I couldn't. She pouted toward the mirror, before applying lipgloss. She made a perfect circle with her lips and dabbed it with a tissue. Then she applied a powdery stuff to them, and then some more clear stuff. I don't know how I'm supposed to remember all of them. It's impossible I say! She left her mouth alone now after inspecting her teeth. She leaned closer to the mirror tweaking at her eyebrows and curling her eyelashes. She looked slightly older after that, but not much.

She smiled to herself busying herself around the appartment. Her bedroom and kitchen weren't seperated. Her phone rang from where she'd discarded it. She sighed and hurried over to pick it up. "Hey Mum, nothing much is up." She smiled to herself as she continued to move around. "Just getting ready to go out." She switched hands holding it to her other ear. "Yeah I'm meeting Luke any second...I know right!" She laughed to herself, pulling her trousers off with one hand and shrugging them into a drawer. She pulled her top off so she was wearing her bra and underwear alone. Over her head she pulled a black dress, with spider webs across it. "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah." She told her Mother. "I'm studying hard I promise!" She pulled on her tights, hopping on one leg to pull on her boots. She managed to slip into her jacket. "I'm always safe!" She applied some more lipstick.

Her boots had studs along the sides, I'd seen her given them by her Mother. Her Father had almost had a fit when he saw them. He'd shrugged it off eventually. "Yes the appartment is lovely." She sighed. "I know, seventeen next week! It was really kind of Uncle Roger to arrange this. Just temporarily. Wammy's House is amazing! Luke's from there...I know what you said..Of course..." She muttered a few other words I didn't catch.

She hooked a skellington earing through one ear. Then a spiderweb through another. She did her belt up around her waist, its chains hanging down. She put her boot chains on next, and then smiled at herself. "Dad'd have a heart attack if he saw me now! I know..I'm coming home next week anyway! You know I'm only here for a few weeks. Uncle Roger did it didn't he?" She asked. She carried on the conversation for a few seconds. "Yes..No I won't do anything you wouldn't do!...I know..It's the anniversary next month isn't it?"

I knew this anniversary well. The day Light Yagami died. The day that changed her Mother's life. "I'll come with you. I go every year don't I?...No of course it's not a chore! He was your brother wasn't he? ..Exactly Mum...Mum don't worry...Mhm?"

The appartment Roger had arranged for her was lovely. It was a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom that was built on Wammy's ground. Roger reopened the orphanage a few years ago, welcoming back its occupants. He found retirement wasn't to his liking. It was small but comfortable, similar to the appartments teachers had. Roger had one similar but part of the actual school. L had had one. My L. It was strange how much I learnt about him after his death. He will always be the small boy who first found me to me. "I've met Linda Mum! She's really nice...Yeah..She knew Matt and Mello when they were my age..She has a son, she called him Matt..yeah he's really sweet..she had him when she was 20!..He's a year older than me...No I don't like him! I told you I have a date with Luke.."

She moved her coat off the bed, clearing it of almost everything but the blankets upon it. Roger had had a copy of the Bible put on the bedside table. Apparently every room at Wammy's had one. This didn't take me as odd, I think they needed it. Lita came to me, picking me up and holding me at arms length as she finished her conversation. "I know Mum..I love you..Tell Dad I love him too...Bye." She put the phone down, and wiped her eye with one hand.

"Hey old friend." She smiled at me. She'd had my eyes sown back on, and she'd replaced my ribbon once more. Now I had a blood red ribbon that flew like a river around my neck. My eyes were bright blue buttons and cloth, my fur as brown as ever. I looked good, even if I did have half an ear and my stomach sown up from where a dog chewed me. "This is where you started isn't it?" She asked me, she looked at her phone for the time. "I can't understand that can I?" She asked. "Roger said I'd always be welcome here..Was he here when you were here? He wouldn't have been would he?" She shook her head. She looked at her phone again. "I'm getting too old for a teddy bear aren't I?" She asked me. She nodded to herself. "Yeah I am." She smiled. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could talk? You could tell me about who owned you!"

She sighed to herself. "I know there was L..Then there was A was there? Didn't A kill himself?"

I couldn't correct her so I sat unblinking staring at her. I wanted to tell her about Beyond Birthday and about the dreadful things he did. But I couldn't.

"Then there was Matt and Mello...Mail Jeevas and Mihael Keehl..." She fingered the photos she had by the bedside table. They were horrible photos that I didn't like to look at. She wanted to go into work for Near so she was studying death. But for some reason she'd got it into her head to look at Wammy's deaths to try and connect them. She had a picture of Matt, bullet holes and all, that made me want to puke my stuffing. There was another picture of Mello, burnt. Apparently, for she had told me another time, Mello didn't burn to death, he was burnt after death. There was B, who was scarred badly from burning, but that was simply a mugshot she had of him. She had another picture, but that was of A and I'd seen it before. Just a school photo, of A and B together training to become L. They were smiling, I liked that one. There was one of L, with me in it. "Then there were the others right?" She asked me as if I was going to answer.

She danced over to her suitcase, and from the pocket pulled out her locket. It was a Birthday present from Near. She thought her Mother had helped him, and honestly she wouldn't be wrong. Near hadn't changed since I knew him, he'd have got her a human eyeball for her birthday or something of that ilk. It was a locket, engraved on it that she would always be loved. Inside there were two pictures, one of Light Yagami, one of L Lawliet. Near had explained the conditions of Light's death to her eventually. She had found it hard to accept at first, but she had in the end. She smiled at herself in the mirror. "How do I look?" She asked me. "Good." She looked upward as she heard raindrops. "Never mind!" She told me. "I'm sure Roger has something I can borrow."

She grabbed her card key, and jacket before picking me up, and hurried toward the main building. It was now eight o clock, which meant by now the under sevens were in bed. Roger opperated on a basis that ten year olds went at nine, twelve year olds at half nine unless it was a special night, fourteen year olds at ten, sixteen year olds at eleven, and eighteen year olds if they were still there had it free. Because usually Near was the eldest.

She knocked on door A. How ironic, was my first thought. But a woman with dark brown hair opened it. I recognised her, her name was Sara, and she now worked as a psychologist for Near. I didn't understand why she was there at first. But she smiled at Lita. "Hey..I was just reading to Harry." She told Lita. "He loves Dracula."

Lita nodded. "I know. I have something for him." She pulled me from behind her back. "He belonged to L Lawliet when he was at Wammy's. He also belonged to Near, and to A."

"Wow." Breathed Sara. "Oh God! I remember him! Mello had him for a while.." She trailed off as she stared at me, then she looked at my ribbon. "Is that his name? How do you say it?"

"It's like the tree. Willow-be." Lita told her. "I have to go."  
"Luke?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "It's ok. I know how it is, he's probably waiting for you right now." She winked. "Remember, he needs to be back my three, Roger usually got a bit annoyed if we weren't in."

Lita laughed her pretty laugh. "Give Harry my love." She told her, then waved over her shoulder. "Hey Harry! Sara's got a present for you!"

She turned away leaving me in the hands of the woman. She in turn handed me to a five year old boy. I know his name wasn't really Harry, but it seemed like a suitable name. He had a scar on his forehead, that later he told me he'd got as a baby. He told me he was training to become L. But before I became his, I waved goodbye to Lita. Sara left the door open, so I saw as she hugged Luke to her, and as they held hands to leave. I watched them go down the corridor, together.

Who said Wammy's kids couldn't be happy?

Lita and Luke, like a modern day gothic Romeo and Julliet. I just hope they get in on time.

Sara a former Wammy's kid, became a psychologist on Near's team.

Some of my boys ended up sad, all of my boys ended up dead too young. Apart from Near. Though you could argue he never owned me. I looked up at Harry and smiled. Little Harry with his dark brown hair and his bags under his eyes. I hoped they didn't become permanent. They probably wouldn't. Harry was training to become N. It wasn't L anymore, because when Near became L he didn't lose his letter. He became L, and stayed N. So perhaps there was hope for Harry. Perhaps there was. I didn't know the answers then and now I do. But that's another story. So I'll leave you now, with Sara reading us our story about Count Dracula. A nice place to leave you isn't it? Her voice slipped over me, like chocolate treacle. Soothing me. Harry held me in his tiny hands, pressing me to him. He made me promises about how he'd never leave me.

People have made that promise to me before. But at the start they mean it. In the end they never do. People move and people grow. But that's ok. I don't mind anymore.


	14. Near is gone

When Harry was sixteen years old we received the news that Nate River was dead. He died of what seemed at first to be a heart attack. It later turned out that he had been drugged.

This had everyone worried for reasons that I am yet to fully understand. I was never told about how the Kira case was solved. But I was under the impression that his means of killing had been- exterminated. Everyone at Wammy's breathed out a sigh of relief when they found out it had been poison. But that of course raised new questions.

Because the odd thing was, the really strange thing, that Nate River died in Wammy's house. He had returned, a weekend retreat it seemed. He was working on a new case, involving something complicated. And what do Wammy's kids do better than any other people in the world? Stick together. He returned, to the people he trusted most, for their help.

After introducing himself properly to the whole house, in a way so similar to my L, he formed his group of elite students. Wammy's children are some of the best. But he pulled together the ones who could be useful for him. Some children who had already left Wammy's. Sara, Linda, a young man who went by the name Xtra. With an X he insisted.

The one thing I noticed about the group, was that the eldest, was a man called Matsuda. He was around his fourties. There were a few other non Wammy's. There was Lita, and a few others, but none were old. At first I thought that might be by Near's choice, but in fact I was wrong. My theory now, is that even non Wammy's found it hard to grow old. They say the good die young.

Near was very specific that he would not accept any children younger than fourteen. I think he chose to do that because of his own experiences. Of course, fourteen is a dangerous age. But at least it's better than the preteen preparing to be teen, tantrums he could have ended up with. (See Mello refferences).

His mismatched team were twenty four in total. Twelve were Wammy's kids of the present, and the others were ex Wammy's and outsiders. The total with Near was twenty five. Apparently there was some reason behind those numbers, but I am yet to figure that out. I may be Wammy's eldest ward, but I am certainly not the most intelligent. Perhaps it is because of the twenty six letters in the alphabet. He may have only given twenty five places, out of respect for L who could never be replaced.

I heard that argument while lying on the floor of the sitting room. No one notices me, the perfect spy. But then Harry argued that yes, there were twenty five, but not all of them had letters. The non Wammy's didn't have letters, and not all the children had been given letters yet. Spme of them shared letters, for example he was H, and so was Linda. The theory did not hold water.

Another theory was the Biblical one. But even I doubted that one. If there had been only thirteen, perhaps I could have followed it. But I'm not sure. Two sets of desciples

By now I had been passed on to a new companion. I shall call them all companions now. Not owners. She was called Kat, and given accordingly, the letter K. Not many children receive a letter so soon after arriving, but she was five years old and already got one.

The team were seeming to make progress. Nate River and his team. But then, Nate River died.

Of course everyone was pleased that it wasn't Kira. But that's when the questions started. Suddenly Wammy's house was under lock down. The team dispearsed. Sara, Linda, Lita, they all had jobs. Tasks to do set in Near's will. The rest of the non Wammy's/ex Wammy's had expected it to be over with anyway and left in their time. It wasn't their problem that their leader was dead.

But we knew we had a murderer in our midst. But we also had a new L.

That new L was a she. She was known by the name Beth, her letter before becoming L was B. She was the third B at Wammy's house. Some people said it was a cursed letter, for the previos two Bs had strange and twisted fates happen to them. But every letter at Wammy's house seemed to be a curse. She hadn't been in the origonal twelve that Nate had chosen. She made them thirteen.

There was once a civil war of Wammy's house. That was caused by the first B. The events that unfolded became the seconc civil war of Wammy's houses.

But I am too old to tell that story now. Perhaps another memoirs, perhaps another time. This was the story of Wammy's children. But the series of unfortunate events that came from B becoming L, are not those of children.

Wammy's children stopped being children when they walked through the doors of Wammy's house. They became aliases, letters and codes.

B became L, and her twelve closest became letters. They were given letters almost as soon as Nate River's body was in the ground. Poor Nate River. I don't think he ever thought he would die. But he did.

One day I might look back at my memoirs and laugh. But not today. Or tomorrow.

Let me leave you with this, never come between a small child and a teddy bear.

I have many stories to tell. But not today.

I could tell you about my time as L's bear. The L. From when he first picked me up, to when he finally left me.

I could give you details of what living with the Matsudas was like. Sayu Matsuda, Touta Matsuda, Lita Matsuda, and her new born baby brother, Light Matsuda.

If you wanted I could tell you the secrets I heard discussed in Roger's office.

Or the story of Wammy's second civil war.

Perhaps you'd like to hear the story of how a boy called Jack was kidnapped from Wammy's house, clutching me for protection. I could tell you about how we escaped the chambers in which our kidnapper trapped us.

I could tell you all of that and more. My mind is vast, I have many many stories to tell and yarns to spin.

But for now my lips are sealed with thread. Another day, when you are all sitting comfortably. I will recall the events of any of the above.

For now, sleep is all I desire, and sleep I shall have.

Good night my friends and followers. Good night, and good will.


End file.
